


The Field Trip

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Children, Field Trip, Friendship, Gen, Museums, Paris (City), Partnership, Spies & Secret Agents, Washington D.C.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-22 14:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13765641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are assigned bodyguard duty for a member of the Waverly family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the HOWDOWE Challenge- Holidays of dubious origins writing event, on Section VII, LiveJournal.
> 
> The prompt is for Feb 22nd- World Thinking Day

It was an odd sort of assignment for Solo and Kuryakin, providing security for Alexander Waverly's granddaughter.

The agents had performed that task before, but for both grandchildren, Susan and Thomas, while visiting the Waverly home in Connecticut.

This however was a new one for both agents…

Susan was a member of Girl Scout troop Number 47 out of Ridgefield Connecticut. The entire troop as well as their troop leader the matronly Mrs. Edna Gracey, and a chaperone named Miss Luciana Romero, were gathered to celebrate a special day for the Girl Scouts.

Miss Romero was a curvaceous, dark haired aunt of one of the girls who'd definitely caught Napoleon's eye. Kuryakin, as usual had no interest and was focused on the children, but more specifically Susan. She was an exceptional child, even by Illya's standards, while the others were typical for their age and not very interesting.

They were on a field trip at the National Mall in Washington D.C. to celebrate a dubious holiday, and that was ' _Thinking Day.'_ And riding there in a school bus with a gaggle of giggling little girls was tedious for both agents who sat in the front of the bus, but essentially had to remain distant from their traveling companions.

Back in 1926, Girl Guide and Girl Scout delegates from around the globe met in the USA for the 4th World Conference. They decided there should be a special annual day when Girl Guides and Girl Scouts around the world would think of each other and express their thanks and appreciation for the Scout Movement. They called it 'Thinking Day" and it would fall on February 22nd. The date was chosen as it was the birthday of Scouting and Guiding founder Lord Robert Baden-Powell and of Lady Olave Baden-Powell, his wife and World Chief Guide.

Mrs. Gracey was well aware of Susan's special status and permitted the presence of Napoleon and Illya, who for most of the day merely kept in the background as the twenty-four prepubescent girls skipped from one museum to another on the National Mall.

They had saved the The National Gallery of Art as the piece de resistance as it was the location of a copy of Rodin's sculpture, 'The Thinker."

"How appropriate to end our trip on Thinking Day by observing Rodin's masterpiece," Mrs. Gracey exclaimed with great enthusiasm.

"Mrs. Gracey, why is he naked?" One of the girls asked. That sent the others into a fit of giggles. Their troop leader was at a loss for words as it hadn't dawned on her that the bronze was a nude.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance Madam,"Kuryakin stepped forward.

"Please do Mr. Kuryakin," the woman's eyes pleaded for help.

"The Thinker, which is the depiction of a man hunched over in apparent thought was originally part of Rodin's sculpture _The Gates of Hell_. Standing nearly 20 feet tall, the work was meant to capture the first section of Dante Alighieri's epic poem _Divine Comedy_. _The Thinker_ was meant to be seen perched above the door in a new museum of decorative arts in Paris. The grand size and incredible detail of the towering sculpture required 37 years of work from Rodin. In all that time, the _Gates of Hell_ was never finished and the museum itself was never built."

"Wow 37 years for nothing," one girl said aloud."That's a long time."

"Indeed it is," Illya replied. "Rodin originally called this pondering figure _The Poet_. This name supports the theory that the statue was meant as a depiction of Dante. Because _it_  did not fit with the 19th century view of a tall, slim Dante, some saw it as being more allegorical in nature. There were theories that it might be Rodin himself regarding his creation, or perhaps the biblical Adam considering the sins of his descendants. The name _The Thinker_ was credited to foundry workers who felt the sculpture bore a notable resemblance to Michelangelo's sculpture of the same name."

" _What's a foundry?"_ A blonde girl spoke up, raising her hand and waving to get Illya's attention.

"A foundry is a factory that produces metal castings. Metals are made into shapes by melting them into a liquid, pouring the metal in a mold, and removing the mold material or casting after the metal has solidified as it cools."

"Like making cookies with cookie cutters?" Illya was at a loss on that one but was saved by another question.

" _Who's Dante Al...Alligatori._ "

"That is Dante Alighieri," he corrected the child.

Another hand immediately shot up, waving as well to gain his attention.

"Yes young Miss?"

" _So if he took 37 years to make those statues, was that the only thing he ever did?"_

"Very good question. Auguste Rodin created thousands of busts, figures, and sculptural fragments over more than five decades. He painted in oils and in watercolors. The Musée Rodin in Paris holds 7,000 of his drawings and prints, in chalk and charcoal, and much more."

" _When did he do all this?_ " The blonde asked.

"He was born 1840 and died in 1917 at the age of 77 and had worked as an artist since he was a very young man."

Illya noticed it was the same girl asking the majority of the questions, but he saw by the look in Susan Waverly's eyes that she already knew most of what he'd said. The children and grandchildren of Alexander Waverly were very well educated and intelligent.

Most of the other youngsters were beginning to fidget.

"Did you know," he asked them,"that there are many copies of The Thinker all around the world?"

" _Is this a copy?"_

"Yes it is. Rodin made the slightly larger-than-life version we know today, casting it in bronze, that _Thinker_ was 6 feet tall and became the center of instant media praise. The original marble copy of the Thinker currently resides in France. After his death his whole estate was given to the French Government."

A different girl finally raised her hand.

"Yes?"Illya acknowledged her.

" _Mrs. Gracey, I'm tired and I'm thinking we should go back to our hotel now, please?"_

The others giggled again at their troop mate's little pun.

"Very well girls, if that's what you want," Mrs Gracey seemed to sigh in relief.

" _Yes please?"_ They practically begged in unison.

Illya stepped back, returning to his partner's side.

"I am afraid most of what I said was for naught," he whispered.

"I thought it was perfect tovarisch."

"Why thank you Napoleon. Having lived in Paris I gleaned a lot of information regarding the arts."

"Yeah, your little lecture, as well as the question and answers gave me time to umm, chat up Miss Romero." Napoleon flashed a sly smile.

"Oh please do not tell me?"Illya groaned.

"Yes I have a date with her this evening, then we'll go back to our...umm hotel room for drinks and maybe something a bit more intimate."

"Really, Napoleon do you ever stop?"

"It's like breathing, can't live without it." He grinned.

"And where am I supposed to go while you entertain Miss Romero in _our_ room?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out, you always do."

"One of these days Napoleon…"

"What?"

"Nevermind."

Susan Waverly suddenly appeared in front of them.

"Illya, I was wondering if maybe you could bring me back here to the museum later and tell me more about what you know."

Illya smiled; the child was wise beyond her years and was most certainly a Waverly as she undoubtedly overheard Napoleon's plans.

"I would be delighted Susan. Perhaps after the tour of the museum I could take you for some ice cream, if you like."

"I'd like that a lot, but just don't tell the other girls okay?"

"But of course, it will be our secret. Except I will have to inform Mrs. Gracey."

"I don't think she'll mind. My grandfather makes a lot of donations to the troop."

She lowered her voice, covering her mouth with her hand as she spoke. "Grandmother told me he paid for this trip for all of us."

"Very generous of him,"Illya nodded."I will not tell a soul.

"Yeah, I know. You're good at that kind of stuff,"Susan winked.

Kuryakin gave her one of his shy, half smiles.

"Yes a Waverly indeed," he thought to himself.

.

A/N: Thinking day was the original name, but it was changed In 1999, at the 30th World Conference, held in Ireland, the name was changed from "Thinking Day" to "World Thinking Day", in order to emphasize the global aspect of this special day.

 

 

**\**


	2. Chapter 2

 

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13765641/chapters/31649211)

Though Illya Kuryakin sometimes came across as a stiff necked, inflexible man who rarely showed his emotions, he actually had a soft spot for children, unless of course they were annoying spoiled little brats; it was there his patience with them ended.

Susan Waverly was well known to him, and a delightful young girl. He’d first met her as an infant, having been assigned to watch over the Waverly household while the proud parents were visiting Alexander Waverly and his wife Estelle with the newest arrival to the family.

Mr. Waverly was well aware of Kuryakin’s way with little ones, and thought he’d be a good fit for such an assignment. The man knew how to feed an infant as well as handle a dirty nappy with the best of them. Illya had a pleasant voice and could rock and sing a fussing child to sleep. Preparing a bottle and feeding were handled with ease as well.

Illya was more than willing on manys the occasion to watch the child while the parents, specifically the mother could get a bit of a break.

When he was only a youngster, Illya helped his mother care for his younger sister Katiya and the infant twins Sasha and Misha. He lost his entire family during the war, but he never forgot the life lessons he learned while helping to care for his siblings.

Over the years he watch Susan and her brother Thomas grow up to be well behaved children who still enjoyed a good story or a game of chess. They’d often request Illya to spend Halloween at their grandparents home where he’d oversee the children while they, in their costumes would ‘trick or treat.’

Mrs. Waverly would always have plenty of chocolate on hand for her favorite Russian. At the end of the night Illya would read ‘The Raven’ for them all, making a perfect end to the holiday.

The children never had nightmares in spite of Illya’s dramatic reading of the poem.

Napoleon Solo on the other hand, knew little about child care. Though he was raised with a younger brother and three younger sisters he saw very little of child rearing per se.  There were nannies who took care of everything, and the children as a rule were to be seen and not heard.

His parents did a lot of traveling, a his father was in the military and always off to something important around the world. The Solo children were left in the care of their very capable nanny, though Napoleon had other ideas and rather than being left home with his siblings, he would stay with their Aunt Amy who lived nearby during the summer months in her own house.

It wasn’t until Napoleon was older that the new nanny caught his interest. She was gorgeous, he was sixteen and full of raging hormones...enough said.

That particular nanny was sent packing as was Napoleon, who was sent off to a military academy.

His father said it would do him good and make a real man out of him, and perhaps it did, well that and entering the military and going off to fight in Korea.  Going to war would make or break any boy of becoming a man.

After taking Susan Waverly back to the The National Gallery of Art, the two spend hours together touring the paintings, and statuary while stopping off to discuss ones that caught the girl’s interest.

“I think I’d like to learn to paint someday,” she wistfully said.”Do you paint Illya?”

“No I am afraid I not but I do some sketching...nothing serious though. Did you know that many artists sketch out their paintings on their canvas before applying the many layers of paint. Perhaps you could start with learning to draw. There are certain basic rules that need to be grasped and followed such as perspective and…”

He was interrupted by an announcement over the public address system, informing all visitors that the museum would be closing in ten minutes.

“Oh dear,” he looked at his watch.”I am afraid we lost track of the time. I am sorry Susan but it is probably too late to go out for ice cream. Perhaps the hotel kitchen might still be open though.”

“That’s okay Illya, I don’t have to have ice cream. I’m glad I got to do this with you.  How do you know so much about art?”

“I read a lot and remember most of it as I have what is known as an eidetic memory. What you might know as a photographic memory.”

“I bet that comes in handy,”she giggled.

“It most certainly does, having such a gift as well has having lived in Paris for a few years before I came to work for your grandfather gave me the opportunity to visit the Louvre and the many other galleries around the city.”

“That must have been pretty cool living in Paris. I’d like to go there someday.”

“If you study art, then perhaps someday you will. I may even see a painting by you hanging in a gallery someday and I will smile, remembering that I knew you when you decided you wanted to become an artist.”

“I could give you my autograph and then when I’m favous it would be worth a lot of money,” she giggled again

“That I think is putting the horse a bit before the cart Susan,” he winked.

As they headed out of the museum through the exterior tall columns, walking down the steps together into the night air, Illya felt the girl slip her hand into his.

It warmed his heart to have the trust of a child like that, and for a brief second he hoped someday he might be lucky enough to have a son or daughter of his own...that was if he lived long enough to retire.

“Illya?”

“Yes Susan?”

“Why aren’t you married with kids of your own?”

He rolled his eyes; it was if she’d read his mind but he reminded himself that she definitely was a Waverly, and perhaps had inherited some of that prescience that her grandfather seemed to possess.

“We as agents for your grandfather’s organization are not permitted to marry and have children until after we reach retirement age.”

“Why?”

He knew that Susan was well aware of UNCLE, though most definitely not the darker side of it. The life of a spy with a licence to kill was not exactly the stuff of which bedtime stories were made.

“Because ours can sometimes be a dangerous job and it would not be fair to leave behind a family if something were to happen to us.”

Susan became silent for a moment, the wheels turning in her head. “How old do you have to be to retire? And couldn’t you just retire early?”

“Forty, one must be that age. Early retirement is not possible as we have agreed to work until we retire, that is unless we are injured and unable to perform our duties.”

“Or if you’re killed.”

“Yes Susan that too.” She deduced that from him merely saying it was a dangerous job. "Impressive," he thought to himself.

As they walked along the lonely mall, Illya planned to catch a taxi to return them to their hotel, and once they reached the street, he whistled loudly.

“How’d you whistle like that Illya?” Susan asked. “My brother is always trying to do it but can’t get it right.”

“I will show you,” he smiled.

“Great, then I can rub it in Thomas’ nose that a girl could do it before him. Ha!”

He’d once told Napoleon that he believed in the old European custom of a girl having a dowry when coming to a marriage. His way of thinking had slowly changed as he found he liked strong and independent women, intelligent ones of course. That didn’t quite fit with the old fashioned belief about dowries and wives being subservient to their husbands..

A yellow cab immediately appeared curb side and after letting Susan in first, Illya slid in on the seat beside her.

“Where to Mac?”

He gave the driver the name of the hotel, no need for an address as any self respecting driver would know Washington D.C.

"You got it," was the reply.

A second later the locks on the doors closed by themselves and the interior of the cab filled with a noxious green gas.

Through the haze Illya could see the driver had put on a gas mask, that was before Kuryakin passed out with his arms wrapped protectively around Susan.

.

Napoleon returned from his little rendezvous with Luciana...though she preferred to be called Lucy.It was a pleasant enough evening, a light supper after all the kiddies had be tucked in by she and Mrs. Gracey.

Illya was with Susan, so all things were good.

His evening with Lucy was pleasant, just an intimate dinner at one of the city’s more exclusive bistros.

As for the romance, he decided after thinking on what Illya had remarked that it was probably best to cool it. He walked Lucy to her hotel room door and they shook hands, though he couldn’t resist kissing the back of hers.

That was it. Napoleon actually felt good about it; he knew he didn’t have to sleep with a woman to enjoy her company, and besides this was a situation for which discretion was apropos.

The fact that Lucy lived in Connecticut would make it more difficult to manage seeing her, and neither really wanted a long distance relationship. They left it on cordial terms but she did say if he were ever up her way in Ridgefield to give her a ring.

“Fair enough,” he smiled to himself. Napoleon opened the door to the room where he and Illya were bunking together and was surprised there was no sign of his partner.

Given the time of night, he thought that odd and assembling his communicator he tried contacting his partner. Nothing, nada…

The next step was to see Mrs. Gracey to make sure Susan had returned and was tucked in her bed safe and sound.

The den mother opened her door after checking to see it was in the peephole. She was dressed in her nightgown and robe and her hair put up in hair rollers.

“Oh Mister Solo, I’m not fit for visitors at the moment. Is there something I can do to help you?”

“I do apologize for disturbing you at this hour but could you please verify that Susan Waverly is in her room?”

“Oh...OH! I don’t recall Mr. Kuryakin telling me he’d returned with her from the museum. Goodness gracious.”

She shut her door and charged to the next room, key in hand. As she turned on the light several of the girls woke, shielding their eyes.  
  
“What’s wrong Mrs. Gracey?” One asked.

“Nothing child. Susan Waverly? Are you here?”

“She’s not Mrs. Gracey, she left with Mr. Kuryakin but didn’t come back.”

After doing a bed check on the other rooms, Susan was indeed nowhere to be found, and of course Mrs. Gracey began to panic.

“Take it easy, we’ll find her. I’m sure Illya is with her and she’s fine,” Napoleon said,  though he thought to himself.’ _she better be fine, they both better be.”_


	3. Chapter 3

 

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13765641/chapters/31677180)

 

Illya awoke, sitting in a dimly lit room with a splitting headache and his hands were tied behind his back.

The floor was hard, probably concrete...it felt cold against his rear end.

As he looked around he saw no sign of Susan. There was a window above him to his right that appeared to be boarded up with piece of new plywood, so unless there were bars on the other side of it, his little prison might not to be very secure.

The door wasn’t barred, nor did there appear to be a lock, just a simple brass door handle.  It looked to be made of wood and to have been freshly painted. The smell filled the room as well as did that of freshly cut wood.

This made him hope he’d been merely tucked away in a basement storage place. Illya was confident his escape could be managed but his concern was still for Susan.

The girl would be a valuable hostage and could be used against her grandfather and thereby UNCLE as well.

Illya squeezed his eyes closed for a second; his head was going to be handed to Alexander Waverly on a silver platter for this. He deserved it for fouling up and would face his punishment whenever and however it came. Right now Susan was his only concern.

Illya’s eyes snapped open, listening as the door moaned while it slowly opened. A figure stood silhouetted against the light that streamed through.

A pale hand reached in, flicking a light switch and Illya closed his eyes, and squinted until they adjusted to the sudden brightness.

“Who are you and where is the child who was with me?” Illya called out.

“Shut up Kuryakin! You don’t get to ask the questions here.”

“Am I to presume you work for T.H.R.U.S.H.”

“Good guess Russkie,” the man snickered.”And catching you is going to give me a big promotion.”

“I will repeat myself, where is the girl?”!”

“What’s she to you?”

It was at that moment Illya realized the goon didn’t know who Susan was.

“Nothing, just a youngster who got left behind at the museum. I was going to take her to my hotel until her family could be located.”

“Yeah right, you and a young girl. I bet you were planning to have a little dirty fun with her. No wait a second, I heard you liked boys or maybe you just like messing with kids.”

Illya’s nostrils flared. “I do no such thing! I am not a pervert, unlike members of your organization.”

That earned him a slap in the face.

Kuryakin slowly turned his face back, glaring as he did. ”For what reason do I have being pleasure of your company then, Mister...I do not believe I know your name though you know mine.”

“Fair enough. The name’s Evan Black and I’m looking to make a name for myself with the Hierarchy. I figure that if I captured and brought in the great Illya Kuryakin then I’d get some major points with the big shots and move up in the ladder, maybe get a satrapy of my own. It would be nice to be the boss for once.”

“How ambitious of you, now as to the girl. I hope you will let her go as she has nothing to do with all of this.”

“What’s with the girl again? You seem awfully concerned about her.”

“It is only because she is an innocent child. You were a child once and did not Evan Black posses a modicum of innocence at one time in his life. Do you not recall it?”

“Yeah I was a good kid once, but that was a long time ago.”

“Perhaps in remembrance of your lost innocence, you could see fit to let the girl go. Then it will be just you and me, and if you do as I ask, I will cooperate,” Illya spoke sharply this time.

“All right, don’t get your nose out of joint. I’ll let her go as long as you promise you’ll do what you said _and_ won’t try to escape.”

Illya didn’t hesitate, “I give you my solemn word as an UNCLE agent.”

Of course he was lying, but he had a feeling this Black character was a bit naive. It was worth taking the chance as long as it got Susan safely out of the picture.

“Done deal then. I gotta say it was pretty easy grabbing you, then again I really caught you off guard. I spotted you and the kid at the museum as I was casing it to maybe steal some paintings, I figured you were a safer bet. So I waited in the taxi I borrowed as I figured you’d need one after staying so late looking at all that artwork.  And there you and the girl appeared and I pulled up in the cab. It was a piece of cake!”

“Such a clever plan,” Illya droley replied. “I am surprised that a man of your abilities is not already a member of the T.H.R.U.S.H. Council.”

Black raised his hand to strike Kuryakin again as the Russian’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on him, but he stopped himself. Maybe this would get him a seat on the Council?"

“Before you let the girl go, may I see her to say goodbye?” Illya asked in a soft, compliant tone of voice.

“Yeah, why not?” Evan said. He approached the agent, hefting up to sit on a single chair that was in the room. Evan redid the ropes on Illya’s wrists, making them tighter, and for good measure he tied his ankles to the legs of the chair.

There he left Kuryakin, closing the door after himself.

Illya continued to work at loosening the binding on his wrist, though Black did a better job of restraining him this time.

A few minutes passed before the door creaked open again. Evan had Susan by the arm and was holding onto her tightly. She seemed to be unharmed as far as Illya could see.

“Hello young Miss, how are you?” Kuryakin asked.

“I’m fine, but this is weird, I must have fallen asleep in the taxi. I was in a bathroom and couldn’t get out until this man came and got me. I thought you said we were going back to your hotel. Is this your hotel? It looks more like an office building.

“No this is not my hotel, though that was the plan, but I am sorry but I will not be able to help you find your parents. This gentleman is going to help instead.” Illya only hoped the child didn’t use his name.

“But what about you Mister,” she understood by his formal greeting that she should say little, much less his name.” You said you’d help me.”

“I can not. I would suggest you go back to the museum where I found you and wait there for your parents to come looking you. You must be brave like the Emperor Napoleon.” He hoped saying Solo’s name wouldn’t spook Black.

“Okay Mister. Bye and thanks.”

Evan led her out, closing the door again behind himself.

Illya only hoped Evan Black wasn’t lying as well…

 

.

Napoleon’s reaction after being unable to locate Susan was to head back to the National Gallery of Art as that’s where Illya was going to take her.

However, this time of night it would be closed, but there might be a clue, a security guard he could speak to, a security tape...something that might help.

On his way to the museum Napoleon decided to try his communicator again.

.

 

Illya was still working away at his bindings when his communicator pen chirped to him. It was in the breast pocket of his suit and he was surprised the Thrushman hadn’t relieved him of it.

After a bit of maneuvering and wiggling on his part, he was able to pull the antenna up, but there was no way he could assemble it to speak. He could only assume it was his partner looking for him, and hoped now that there was at least a signal, Napoleon could home in on the location of it with his own communicator.

.

As Solo’s taxi pulled up in front of the museum, he spotted a lone figure curled up, sitting on the steps. He told the driver to wait, and quickly stepped out of the cab, calling to her.

“Susan!”

The girl looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of a familiar face.

“Napoleon! Some crazy man has Illya!” She ran to Solo, burying herself in his arms and hugging him.

He pulled her back, holding her at arm’s length and looked her in her eyes. “It’ll be all right.”

Surprised there were no tears, he could see the fear in her eyes. “It’s okay. Now tell me where’s Illya?”

“I don’t know exactly. We got in a taxi to go back to the hotel and then it was filled with a disgusting green gas. When I woke up, I was locked in a bathroom it looked like a bathroom...like one in an office, not someone’s home. After a while some guy took me down to see Illya who was in a basement. I think he was tied up. He looked all right, but he pretended not to know me and told me I should come back here to the museum to wait for my family to find me, then he said I should be strong like Emperor Napoleon.”

“The man brought you back here; didn't you see the route?”

“No Napoleon, he blindfolded me, telling me it was part of a stupid game, though I knew why he did it. I did count the time it took to get from where ever we were to the museum. It took about five minutes.”

Napoleon grinned.”Susan you are a credit to your family.” He pulled his communicator, taking a chance and to his surprise Illya’s communicator was active; he could home in on the signal.

Now here was a dilemma, he couldn’t leave Susan sitting here by herself and there wasn’t time to wait for another taxi to arrive. The ladies couldn’t leave the children in the hotel to come and get her; the only thing he could do was take her with him.

He took her by the hand and led her back towards the cab.

“Look, I have to find Illya, but you’ll have to come with me and I want you to promise me if I tell you to do something, you’ll do it.”

“Yes sir.” She nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

As the cab drove on, Solo listened to the beeping of his communicator.

“Say what is that Mister,” the driver asked,” One of those new fangled pagers?”

“Yes ummm, that’s exactly what it is. Sorry for the noise but I can’t get it to shut off. Just keep driving until I tell you when to stop."

The signal became stronger and when their ride was just about five minutes, the tone became constant, one long beep indicating they’d arrived.

“Pull over here,” Napoleon said.

As the cab came to a stop, he got out but told Susan to stay put.

They were in front of an empty office building, one of many in the area that were being built to expand the commercial side of the nation's capital.

He handed the driver extra fare money to take the girl back to the hotel and leaned over, looking Susan directly in the face.

“Now I want you to listen to me, this is important. Tell Mrs. Gracey if I’m not back within an hour, she should call the police and tell them there are two UNCLE agents in trouble. Give them this address. Understand?

“Yes sir,” she hesitated, “please be careful?”

“I will sweetheart.” He waved the driver on after closing the door. Waiting until they were out of sight, he drew his gun and quietly entered the building.

Susan had said a basement, and once inside there was a door indicating STAIRS. Napoleon opened it, peeking into the landing to make sure the coast was clear.

A red emergency light cast an eerie glow on the steps as he carefully descended.

As he placed his foot on the final step…

 **‘BANG!’** A shot rang out, hitting Solo in the head.

Napoleon went down hard, and he laid there at the bottom of the stairs.

Evan Black looked to see who it was he’d shot. He couldn’t see the person's face it was at the guy was backlit by the red lighting, and he was just a shadowy figure.

“Shit!” He cursed when he saw who it was. He’d killed Napoleon Solo, if he’d known who it was he could have captured him too!

He cursed again and again as he went back inside to see to Kuryakin. Leaning down almost nose to nose with Illya, Evan spoke.

“Got some bad news for you comrade. I just killed your partner Solo. I don’t know how he found you but I guess he was coming to rescue you. So you got anything to say?”

Before Illya could utter a word Black’s eyes opened wide.

The only sound was a ‘pfffft’ of a muffled gun firing.

A sleep dart protruded from the Thrushman’s neck and and he slowly sank go the floor, landing at Illya’s feet, his mouth hanging open in a look of shock.

Standing in the doorway was Susan Waverly with an UNCLE special in her hands. She held the gun in a two-handed grip and remained motionless. Someone had obviously shown how to hold and use a weapon.

“Illya are you okay?” Her voice was a little shaky.

“Yes, fine. If you would just please untie me? We can use the ropes to secure our friend here as a sleep dart will only keep him unconscious for so long.”

Once untied Illya took the gun away from her, and seeing the letter S on the grip it, he feared the worst was true.

“Where did you get this?”

“From Napoleon, he was laying at the bottom of the stairwell. Illya there’s lots of blood...I think he might be dead.” She finally began to tremble.

Illya rushed through the doorway, finding with great relief his partner sitting up and holding a bloody handkerchief to his head. Apparently he’d been grazed and head wounds tended to bleed heavily even if they weren't serious. When Napoleon went down, he hit his head against the stairwell railing and was knocked unconscious, leading Black to think Solo was indeed dead.

“I guess you didn’t need me to rescue tovarisch, instead I was the one in trouble.”

“On the contrary I did need rescuing and was freed by someone,” Illya gave a wave for the girl to reveal herself.

“Susan!” Napoleon barked. “Didn’t I send you back to the hotel?”

“Sorry Napoleon, but I had a feeling you’d need help. I made the driver turn around and bring me back.”

“If I wouldn’t probably pass out young lady, I’d put you over my knee and give you a good spanking for disobeying me. You promised me you’d listen.”

“Sorry Napoleon, I lied.”

Illya couldn’t help but smile when he heard her say that.

“Who taught you to use a gun like that Susan?” He asked.

“My grandmother. She said there might be a time when a protection detail wasn’t around. She showed me where my grandfather keeps his guns. They’re locked up but I know where the key is kept. I can only touch them if there’s an emergency….Thomas can’t as he’s too young, but I can. I kind of thought this was an emergency, so that's why I took your gun Napoleon."

“And does your grandfather know?” Solo asked.

“No sir it’s grandma and my secret. You won’t tell him will you?”

Both men looked at each other, not quite sure how to answer that.

"We'll _think_ about it," Napoleon sighed. 

"A pun for Thinking day my friend?" Illya smirked.

.

A team was dispatched from the D.C. field office and while Napoleon awaited their arrival, along with a medical team, Illya took Susan back to the hotel.

They came up with a plan to keep both of their heads on their shoulders...and their jobs.

.

After arriving at the hotel, Illya offered his humblest apologies to Mrs. Gracey, telling her that she and Susan had a bite to eat at a local bistro and completely lost track of the time.

“Well, other than my heart pounding, no harm was done. There won’t be a next time Mr. Kuryakin should you ever be dispatched to such a duty with us again,” the woman wagged her finger at him. " Mr. Waverly will not hear of it this time, but don’t think I won’t if such an incident should ever occur in the future!”

Illya lowered his eyes in contrition.”You have my word Mrs. Gracey. Lesson learned. I will not make the same mistake again."

“It’s not Illya’s fault,”Susan interrupted. “I asked to stop and get a hamburger. I was hungry.”

“Now you stay out of this Miss Susan, this is an adult conversation and none of your business child. Off to bed with you now.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Susan smirked, winking at Kuryakin.

“Poor Mr. Solo is off looking for the two of you all for naught," Mrs. Gracey droned on." The poor man is going to be exhausted but I’m sure relieved you and most importantly Susan are fine. Now good night Mr. Kuryakin.” She spun on her heels, heading off to make sure Susan was tucked in.

.

Napoleon finally made it back to the hotel and was satisfied that Mrs. Gracey took the bait hook, line and sinker. He climbed into his bed and fell right to sleep, as did Illya.

The field trip was now at an end, and the next morning the bus load of girl scouts, their chaperones and the two UNCLE agents made their return trip, with a few pit stops, back to Ridgefield Connecticut.

Once the children were picked up by their parents, and Susan was safely delivered to the Waverly house, it was Solo and Kuryakin’s intention to return to New York.

“Nonsense, you’ve been traumatized!” Estelle Waverly insisted they stay the night and recover before driving to New York.

“Beg pardon?” Napoleon swallowed hard, wondering how the hell she found out. He looked to Illya who appeared nothing other than calm and placid.

“Yes, spending the weekend with all those prepubescent girls, not to mention that _woman_ Edna Gracey...she’s intolerable!” Estelle said.

“Ohhh,” Napoleon nodded,” It wasn’t that bad at all, _was_ it tovarisch?”

Illya chimed in, “No not bad. The children were well behaved and very interested in the museum, especially Rodin’s The Thinker, it was the piece de resistance of their trip for ...Thinking Day, I believe they called it.”

Alexander Waverly was not happy that his agents had been waylaid by his wife, but knowing her stubbornness he didn’t even try arguing with her. He agreed to them returning the next day. There were no assignments pending at the moment.

As Napoleon disappeared upstairs to freshen up in the guest room he and Illya would share, his communicator called his attention.

Illya had just walked behind him and deposited his valise on his bed, and tossed Napoleon’s over to his own.

The American had already stretched out and knocked the bag to the floor as he sat up to answer the call.

“Solo here.”

“Well it seems you had a bit of an exciting weekend Mr. Solo.”

 _“Sir?”_ He didn’t want to give anything away, though there was no doubt the Washington office had notified the Old Man regarding Evan Black.”

“This Black fellow. Tell me how this happened. Weren’t you on protection duty for my granddaughter?”

“And we were sir. Umm, Mr. Kuryakin was at the hotel and I decided to take a little break. I ummm, went back to the museum, and was waylaid by Black. He recognized me and apparently thought capturing me would help him climb up the ladder with THRUSH and get him some sort of promotion.”

“Yes, upon further investigation, he is a rather low level operative. I was surprised he was able to get the drop on you Mr. Solo, very careless of you. Perhaps you need a refresher course at Survival School?”

 _“_ Oh sir, I really don’t think that’s necessary. He got me with some sort of sleeping gas as I got into what I thought was a innocent taxi ride back to the hotel. No one would have been able to prevent that.”  Napoleon looked over to his partner who had his hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

"I also find it a bit odd that Black admitted, upon questioning, to kidnapping Mr. Kuryakin and not yourself. Can you explain that Mr. Solo?"

"Ummm, it was my understanding that it was his intention to capture Mr. Kuryakin but he got me instead. The man seemed quite confused and I don't think he's quite right in the head sir."

“Very well,"Waverly sounded suspicious." We'll speak further on the matter when you return to New York tomorrow. Out.”

As soon as Napoleon closed his communicator, Illya let go a belly laugh.

“Not funny! If anything you should be the one with the sword of Damocles hanging over your head.” Solo kicked off his shoes, laying back on his bed. “You’re the one who screwed up, not me.”

“I did not, as you even said to Mr. Waverly,’ no one would have been able to prevent that.' Still I have learned a lesson from all this.”

“What’s that tovarisch?

“Never underestimate a Waverly.”

“You mean Susan?”

“Yes and perhaps Mrs. Waverly as well…”

  



End file.
